Colonial Wars

i. king william's war

when the first september came the grasses
wouldn't burn, and all the pilings out from
the lake were not swept by the brackish water. it
was a commonplace

autumn. it was not even autumn. and jason came
in wearing a white coat, and he said "first off

learn that simply because I am not a fox,
nor am I any man that can fly, I will not
let you down." jason

said that the best assurances were ones given when there
was nothing to gain by being certain,

and all the more reason to doubt. he said that

entanglements were all the better,
rounding out the last flagging corners of summer warmth,
coming in from the high rolling plains of september.

"and the first war
was barely fought upon
these shores. that was when there
was nothing to know, not even rivers
to hide behind."

jason was a brave man.

ii. queen anne's war

and soon enough there were a few of us sitting in a circle,
feeling quite responsible for burdening the paperbound
histories with our own small guilt. the october taught us
to feel bad, and jason gave us quick looks, and

we thought that he had lied. he had to be a fox, that
was how he climbed home through the windows
every evening, when we no longer needed him to prop
up our scrabbling

words, when we understood everything no one had ever
said to us. jason said "this is the sum of autumn. it must
hurt first to turn colder." then we realized that it still
dawned brightly every morning. we gave the sun much
credit, for it had murdered many men,

simply by speaking to them

"the second
war was fought at sea, and
it was over trade, and
the sea was as much of
a wilderness as the galaxy,
or the forests in the north."

jason became a light of consciousness

iii. king george's war

progression, like breeding egalitarian the seasons!" it
screamed at us
from the sky, and we did not look out of the window any longer. the room
became small and filled with
meanings our very own(yes our own above the
dusty recollections of other meanings,
long flicking in the oiled lighting). we
knew our way about. we read with

much confusion that once people had not had much concern
that one day would come to another, and that 'dying in the snow
at evening is a pretty good death,

knowing that you died as the year
died, and that the year died above you." this is not what Jason told us,
but we could by that time hear him speak to the
lights, and the grasses frozen outdoors, and know it
was to us, and know that

we were just as apt to turn the seasons as he, or that we
could still fall asleep under the glaring paperback crisis of the
history being pandered before us. we believed it. we greatly

believed it all.

"and this
war was laughable you know. it
serves to teach you not to
dismember even the meanest
of merchant sailors, upon the high

jason made the burning paper laugh


now the small children are throwing
snow outside, and men died once on
white hills. we are wise. we claim
that the flying horse of the great past
is our own, and we ride to the endless
sky as only he could in the beginning.

we love him now. we shall not know until
it becomes warm once more. we love him
greatly, like the current of heat you do
not know is in the room until you
are standing kneedeep in the snow,
and you are not dying, and you are not
about to die, and the

year is dying around you.

"the last war
was fought mainly in the colonies,
and many men learned much about
the great secret truth-

that all people are free until they realize they have been told otherwise,
and even then they are free."

JASON was the great bright arch,
of that same freedom.